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Array ( [sid] => 141455 [catid] => 1 [aid] => mick [title] => you get to me [time] => 2008-04-08 11:59:59 [hometext] => this is about a girl that i loved... comments please!! [bodytext] => I listen to the sound of her saying, “please don’t leave I will cook you breakfast”
And I know that this is the sound of what I would be saying to you if….
We were close
Your breath, so erect in my temples, I taste it on my t-shirt as I wipe the sweat from my eyes
And I lick the drops, only to find that I am still inside you, and you are still inside of me

It was different, remember sweetheart? Remember when you were young and still so fresh from the old ‘hab and I would start a sentence and then stop it because I knew you would say something, and then I would remember

Our late night swap, our veins, wanting so much to jump out of their carefuly placed space, and spurt onto the pages that I wrote

Didn’t you know I wrote mountains about you?
And I remember it so well on lonely nights where I continue to hear, “where the ***** does everyone go when they have to go”

see, without love, there is no change, and without growth there is no pain
and without you there is no me, see, I loved you when the sky turned black

those thunderclouds, it rained, and then you said (with your eyes glued and your hands moving) “one more time”
and I said (with my eyes unsettled, and my hands still) “no more”
and you pushed me
so far into myself that I thought I had collapsed and created a new identity for myself until you let go of my lips and you said
“finished”

and you held my hand because you were looking for scars, afraid of what you might find, knowing that you had shed blood just a second ago, knowing that you had wanted me to do the same so we could be the same, together, as one

and now
looking back
I see you
And sometimes I think about you and I see red and I remember the wall, where you placed me so delicately, and you brought me to my knees and shook me with so much force that I fell, even further, unable to pick up the pieces that were thrown onto the ground

I remember it, and sometimes I remember it just to feel a little
Just to taste your lips, just to taste the past, because the past? It gets to me

[comments] => 2 [counter] => 206 [topic] => 73 [informant] => juliestevens18 [notes] => [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => english [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 0 [ratings] => 0 [editpoem] => 1 [associated] => [topicname] => abstract )

you get to me

Contributed by juliestevens18 on Tuesday, 8th April 2008 @ 11:59:59 AM in AEST
Topic: abstract

I listen to the sound of her saying, “please don’t leave I will cook you breakfast”
And I know that this is the sound of what I would be saying to you if….
We were close
Your breath, so erect in my temples, I taste it on my t-shirt as I wipe the sweat from my eyes
And I lick the drops, only to find that I am still inside you, and you are still inside of me

It was different, remember sweetheart? Remember when you were young and still so fresh from the old ‘hab and I would start a sentence and then stop it because I knew you would say something, and then I would remember

Our late night swap, our veins, wanting so much to jump out of their carefuly placed space, and spurt onto the pages that I wrote

Didn’t you know I wrote mountains about you?
And I remember it so well on lonely nights where I continue to hear, “where the ***** does everyone go when they have to go”

see, without love, there is no change, and without growth there is no pain
and without you there is no me, see, I loved you when the sky turned black

those thunderclouds, it rained, and then you said (with your eyes glued and your hands moving) “one more time”
and I said (with my eyes unsettled, and my hands still) “no more”
and you pushed me
so far into myself that I thought I had collapsed and created a new identity for myself until you let go of my lips and you said
“finished”

and you held my hand because you were looking for scars, afraid of what you might find, knowing that you had shed blood just a second ago, knowing that you had wanted me to do the same so we could be the same, together, as one

and now
looking back
I see you
And sometimes I think about you and I see red and I remember the wall, where you placed me so delicately, and you brought me to my knees and shook me with so much force that I fell, even further, unable to pick up the pieces that were thrown onto the ground

I remember it, and sometimes I remember it just to feel a little
Just to taste your lips, just to taste the past, because the past? It gets to me

Copyright Â© juliestevens18 ... [ 2008-04-08 11:59:59]
(Date/Time posted on site)

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Re: you get to me (User Rating: 1 )
by artjunkiekyle on Thursday, 10th April 2008 @ 12:31:58 PM AEST
(User Info | Send a Message)

sexual, on the border of raunchy and tasteful
but all the same i loves it
very open
very raw
a wonderful way to lay your heart out
beautifully written
~kyle

Re: you get to me (User Rating: 1 )
by jantra on Sunday, 20th April 2008 @ 12:20:10 PM AEST
(User Info | Send a Message)

hi again julie
well take a deep breath because im definitely going to be easier on you with this one. this one was actually pretty good. there werent a lot of forced rhymes or cliches and it was more focus then the other two ive read so it made sense to the reader. however im still taking issue with your layout. you have these long bordering on rambling sentences. you need to practice breaking these up and distilling them down to their barest essence. i will try to give you an example

I listen to her saying,
“please don’t leave I will cook you breakfast”
I know that this is what I would be saying to you if….We were close.

Your breath,
so erect in my temples,
I taste it on my t-shirt as I wipe the sweat from my eyes.
I lick the drops, and find that I am still inside you, and you are still inside of me

It was different, remember sweetheart? Remember when you were young
and still so fresh
and I would start a sentence and then stop it because I knew you would say something, and then I would remember

Our late night swap,
I wanted us so much to jump out of our carefuly placed space,
and spurt onto the pages that I wrote.
I wrote mountains about you.

I remember it so well on lonely nights
when I continue to hear, “where the ***** does everyone go when they have to go”

see, without love,
there is no change, and without growth,
there is no pain
and without you there is no me.

those thunderclouds,
then the rain,
and then you said, with your eyes glued and your hands moving
“one more time”

and I said,
with my eyes unsettled, and my hands still
“no more”

You pushed me
so far into myself, I thought I had collapsed and created a new identity.
Until you let go of my lips and you said
“finished”

You only held my hand because you were looking for scars,
afraid of what you might find,

You knew that you had shed blood a second ago,
knew that you had wanted me to do the same so we could be the same.

now,
looking back
I see you.

Sometimes I think about you and I see that red
and I remember the wall,
where you placed me so delicately,
where you brought me to my knees and shook me with so much force that I fell.

I remember it, and sometimes I try to remember it just to feel a little taste of your lips,just to taste the past.
Because the past gets to me.

good luck! jantra

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